Failure
by Desertfyre
Summary: Dallas-centric: They thought him a failure. They gave him disapproving looks. But the one that mattered to him most was gone, so maybe he was a failure….


Disclaimer: Do I look like I own the movie/book? I'm still trying to remember if I actually read the book long ago, cause I honestly cannot remember (and the more I think about it the more I don't think so) since the movie was so good it's what I remember. And now after re-watching after years (I had forgotten about it until I came across it a few days ago) I love and appreciate it a lot more. Anyway, basic point: ownage honor belongs to SE Hinton.

A.N: Once again, as always, this is based on the movie since I've seen that for sure. Lol Got a new love and apperication for it after having not seen it for years. I don't normally do stories like this, but I had to for Dallas. Had some ideas about what went through his head during his *coughstupidcough* dare-devil feat that got him killed. That and I had my ideas about why he said Ponyboy's name as he was dying. You'd think it might have been Johnny's. It would make more sense, so this is my take on how Dallas snapped.

My poor Dallas....

Oh, yeah, also, I don't own the song by 3 doors door called 'Loser'. As you can probably tell this is gonna be depressing.

Summary: They thought him a failure. They gave him disapproving looks. But the one that mattered to him most was gone, so maybe he was a failure….

* * *

He was dead.

Johnny was dead.

And he wasn't coming back.

He. ………Was. …… _**Dead**_.

_~~~Breathe in right away,_

_Nothing seems to fill this place_

_I need this every time,_

_So take your lies get off my case~~~_

It kept ringing throughout the Dallas' head as he marched through the hospital, in a rush to get out, in a rush to get away, but he found he could not get away from the ringing sound in his head.

The one word that kept tearing down the last defenses he had.

Dead. Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

_**Dead.**_

_~~~Some day I will find,_

_A love that flows through me like this_

_This will fall away..._

_This will fall away~~~_

How did this happen? When did it go so wrong? When did he become complete and utter failure? Dallas' felt he had one job, one goal that kept him breathing.

That gave him meaning in this otherwise meaningless existence.

To keep Johnny alive; to make sure that Johnny was okay, that Johnny survive and lived the best life he could given the circumstances.

And he failed at that.

He failed.

_**He failed. **_

_~~~You're getting closer,_

_To pushing me off of life's little edge_

_Cause I'm a loser_

_And sooner or later you know I'll be dead~~~_

He pushed open the doors forcefully walking out the hospital. He wanted to scream as his face contorted with pain.

'Is this what I get? Is this what I get when I tried to help someone? When I tried to do something worthwhile?' he thought.

"Hey you, you're not allowed here", a voice entered his head.

Dallas' looked up to see a man in a white coat walking towards him. Apparently another person had been in need of help from the ambluance that was pulled up and the doors open.

Dallas pulled out his gun pointing it in the man's face. He got a fleeting satisfaction of seeing the man shiver and hearing his light gasp. "I'm allowed anywhere I want", he said the pulled the trigger knowing full well it was not loaded.

Though, to him it might not have made any difference either way.

His laugh was somewhat craze, when he the man gave him a disapproving look, rolling his eyes, and went around him.

Dallas pulled the trigger several times in the man's face as he darted into the doorway muttering as he went, "You're out of your mind."

"Why do you bother helping people?" he yelled the question as he turned this way and that, unable to stay still.

Johnny had been in an ambulance.

He had been rushed to the hospital and he died.

No one was able to help him.

"It doesn't do any good", he cried before walking off.

_~~~You're getting closer,_

_You're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall_

_Cause I'm a loser..._

_I'm a loser, yeah~~~_

Dallas walked briskly down the street, the gun tucked in his back pocket, not having any particular destination in mind.

Not caring where he went.

It didn't matter.

All that mattered died when the last breath passed from Johnny's lips.

So what did he care?

Dallas couldn't do anything right in this life!

He couldn't do a simple thing as protect a kid he considered his little brother!

What good was he?

What good was he?

He failed!

_~~~This is getting old,_

_I can't break these chains that I hold_

_My body's growing cold,_

_There's nothing left of this mind or my soul~~~_

Dallas stopped and stared at his feet for a few moment before he slowly looked up and looked around. The tears had long since stopped; the agony that graced his face was slowly fading, leaving him feeling numb.

Numb to any feeling.

Numb to anything.

It took a moment for him to noticed he was standing across the street from an all-night convience store.

Dallas cocked his head almost mechanically and with seeming mechanical strides crossed the street, walking into the store. The man managing the store that night looked up and seemed to look him over. Studying him, assessing him.

And apparently did not see any good as the man's face warped.

Dallas saw the disapproving look, the wariness that graced the store manager's eyes as Dallas slowly began to walk around the store.

_~~~Addiction needs a pacifier,_

_The buzz of this poison is taking me higher_

_This will fall away..._

_This will fall away~~~_

Dallas came to the magazine rack. He picked one up and flipped through it, not paying attention to what he was looking at.

Not even caring what he was looking at.

Not caring about anything.

Not being able to feel anything.

Nothing at all.

Besides what could a failure like him feel?

He failed.

Dallas flipped through the magazine, time and time again. He sit it down rocking on his heels; he punched the magazine lightly once.

Twice with a bit more force.

He didn't know how much time had passed.

Time was meaningless to him anyway.

Where did he have to be?

No where.

He wasn't thinking of anything.

Nothing at all.

_~~~You're getting closer,_

_To pushing me off of life's little edge_

_Cause I'm a loser_

_And sooner or later you know I'll be dead~~~_

He rocked on his heels, looking up, glancing to the side. He was unaware that his fingers tapped out a rapidly almost agitated sound.

Dallas couldn't feel anything; he couldn't even think of anything.

Dallas wanted to feel something……anything…………

Anger or something.....

…Or……something.......

But he couldn't.

He couldn't feel anything.

Why couldn't he feel anything?

Dallas absently picked up the magazine and went to flip it again, but a loud and deliberate clearing of the thoart stopped him. He turned the other way and looked at the man. He looked back at the magazine and flipped through it again.

Dallas saw again the disapproving wary look the man was giving him. He looked at the magazine and flipped once more, before looking up at the man.

"You gonna buy one of those, son?" the man asked.

Something sparked in Dallas. Did the man think he was gonna rob him or something? Dallas had nowhere to be, he was just flipping though a magazine, minding his own business. What was wrong with that? It wasn't his fault he had no where of importance to be right now.

It wasn't his fault his didn't belong anywhere.

He didn't belong anywhere.

He didn't belong.

He didn't belong.

He was just a failure.

He saw the way the man was looking at him, just like the other guy did outside the hospital....just like every other adult did in his life.

Disapproving...

Wary....

He knew what they thought of him.

These thoughts swirled throughout Dallas' head. Thoughts that he had long since been labeled as such and he never paid much attention to them....

.

.

.

Until now.

_~~~You're getting closer,_

_You're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall_

_Cause I'm a loser, _

_Well, I'm a loooser~~~~_

Loser…

Failure…

Good for nothing, street trash…

Failure!

Loser!

Nothing!

NOBODY!

Absently he held up the magazine calmly and torn it apart, yet inside a torrent of an emotional storm was beginning to rage within him.

"You know if you tear one of those up, you have to pay from them", the store manager said, "Don't do that."

Dallas walked up to the counter, touching the magazines as he went. His hand reached to his back pocket.

Dallas saw the look in the man's eyes; he saw what he thought of him.

The thoughts kept resounding in his head.

Louder and louder, it got.

_Loser...._

_Failure...._

_Good for nothing, street trash...._

_**Failure! **_

_**Loser! **_

_**Nothing! **_

_**NOBODY! **_

_~~~You're getting closer,_

_To pushing me off of life's little edge_

_Cause I'm a loser_

_And sooner or later you know I'll be dead~~~_

"You gotta pay for the magazine", the store manager said simply. He didn't care. He didn't care to know about Dallas. He didn't care if this young man was hurting. He didn't care to ask if anything was wrong. No, all he cared about was some stupid magazine that he probably had hundreds of copies of.

He didn't cared.

No one cared.

Dallas heaved a silent sigh, casting down his eyes. It would never change. It was always remain the same.

No one would care.

No one...

NO ONE CARED!

Dallas' hand brushed the gun, as he went for his wallet intending on paying for the stupid magazine. He had forgotten it was there until he did. If the man thought him a thief, thought him nothing.......then he would prove that the man was right.

Dallas saw what the man thought of him. He couldn't get the thoughts out of his head, only now it was jumbled....

He was unable to process on thought from the other.

_Loserfailuregoodfornothingstreettrashnothingnobodynoonecared........._

It kept ringing in his head, building up.

Higher and higher.

Dallas was hearing a ringing noise in his head, voices and sounds all jumbled together making no sense. Just noise.

Lots of noise.

Dallas looked at the man who was looking expectedly yet wary of him.

Who did he think he was? This man should fear Dallas if nothing else.

He had a right to think him street-trash. That is what he was, after all.

He had a right to be wary of him.

Everyone was wary of Dallas Winston!

Dallas could not get these thoughts out. It swirled around his head. No breath in between the thoughts....just a continual assault. It wouldn't stop. The buzzing increased; it wouldn't stop!

He couldn't stop it.

And he snapped.

_~~And you're getting closer,_

_You're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall_

_Cause I'm a loser, yeeeaaah~~~_

And suddenly he found himself pulling out the unloaded but very convincing gun. His hand shook as he held the gun to the man's face. One shot, and the stupid man that only cared about his 50 cents for an equally stupid magazine would be dead before he hit the ground.

"Oh, god, don't shoot", the store manager begged breathlessly.

Yet, Dallas did not feel anything. No remorse, no anger, no nothing.

He was just proving a fact.

Did everyone see him? Did they?

_Did they?_

Did they see that he was a failure?

A loser?

A nobody?

He just proved that.

They should be happy!

**_They should be happy! _**

_~~~You're getting closer,_

_To pushing me off of life's little edge~~~_

"Give me the money", he mumbled. He was just proving what everyone had told him all along. "Give me the money", he ordered more forcible.

"Please, just take it", the man begged.

Dallas slowly reached up and to take it. "Take it and get out of here", the man said.

As soon as he grabbed the bag, Dallas ran out the door. He heard the shots go off, knowing the man had attempted to shoot at him.

Dallas ran, glancing behind him as he did. No one was following him, not yet.

Slowly his mind began to uncloud and he realize exactly what he did.

'Phone!' he thought. He need a phone. He needed to call the gang.

Johnny!

The grief came back.

He saw a phone and ran to it. He continually checked behind him as he dialed. 'Please be there', he prayed. He got Steve and promptly asked for Darry.

Johnny's dead.

He knew that.

He was there.

"Look, meet me at the park, will ya?" he asked.

Dallas hung up the phone and ran. If he could get to the gang, he'd be safe. He'd go into hiding. Everything would be fine. But the more the thought about it, the more he didn't want that. The cycle would repeat. He didn't want to run and fight anymore.

He didn't want to fight anymore.

It wouldn't change anything. He'd still be a failure and Johnny wouldn't be around anymore.

The grief that had eased, now came back full force. Johnny.....

Johnny's dead…

He was dead.

Johnny was dead.

And he wasn't coming back.

He. Was. _**Dead**_.

_~~~Cause I'm a loser_

_And you know that, sooner or later you know I'll be dead~~~_

Sirens.

Cops.

Dallas ran pulling out his unloaded gun.

He could not get away from the cops. There were too many.

He had long since felt hopelessness over take him.

Maybe this was good. He'd go out with some style.

He raised the gun, shouting obscenities.

_~~~You're getting closer....~~~_

Then he heard the gun.

He felt the pain.

He tried to rise.

But he heard the gun....again and again.

Felt the pain....again and again.

Then he heard the cries.

_~~~You're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall...~~~_

'The gang', he thought with a small fleeting smile, 'they came.'

But it was too late.

Johnny…

He had failed Johnny.

Ponyboy…

He had not remembered him until that moment as he crawled along the pavement, trying to reach his friends. He held his head in his hand briefly. Dallas wanted to apologize. He wanted to apologize for being a failure.

For being a nobody.

"Ponyboy…", he murmured.

The pain overtook him and he fell to the ground. Before he closed his eyes he saw blurry bodies. The gang....

Their town would remember his antics tonight he was sure. They would know what they thought was true.

Dallas Winston was all they had thought over the years- a failure, good for nothing street trash. "Ya, I knew the boy was trouble", is what would be said.

It would never change. They would think the same thing, have the same thoughts.

Loser…

Failure…

Good for nothing, street trash…

Nothing...

Nobody...

No one would care. They would all shake their heads with disapprovement. They would all know their wariness was warranted.

Dallas smiled lightly, as something resembling peace over took him, as the last breath eased from him.

But he was sure the gang would understand. He had to go. He had to get out of here. He couldn't do it anymore. He had nothing to live for, nothing to fight for. He had nothing. He had to go to Johnny. When Johnny was alive he had something resembling something.

With Johnny he felt that he was something---a surrograted big brother and friend.

With Johnny he felt he could do some good--- he wasn't a complete failure.

He would go to Johnny.

And he hoped that Johnny would accept a failure.

_~~~I'm taking..._

_I'm taking...._

_the falll.... ~~~_

* * *

A.N: Aww, my poor Dallas! *tears* We and the gang all know he wasn't a failure, just so we are all clear. This is the first time I've actually written a story like this. Now I'm a little sad. Normally I stay away from sad stories (when there isn't some kind of happy ending--rather it be reading or writing one) like this, but I had this idea I had to get out.

And since I cannot leave it this way.......I actually have another story that will be kind of a sequel.

It hasn't really been written, and no title, but the summary is that Dallas sees Johnny in the after life and he hopes that Johnny would still accept his "failure of a self". That one will be more light-hearted (as we can get given the circumstances) and end on a more positive note. So it's like_ a _happy ending for them....but not _the_ happy ending. I hope that even made sense. So if you are interested you can continually check my profile for that. Might actually make a note about it when it's up, as a next chapter in this story.

Anyway, if you read, thank you and remember to Stay Gold!


End file.
